by Dayton Ward
It had not been enough, apparently.
Thirty-eight minutes remained to them, according to Taurik’s estimate. That was probably right on the money, considering the Vulcan’s predilection for accuracy. It should be plenty of time, barring any unforeseen circumstances.
Most of the fourth group of evacuees had made the move to the Enterprise, with the fifth complement already standing by and awaiting their turn. Her security detachment had organized the miners into eight groups of fifty, with the most seriously injured to be transferred first. Those requiring immediate medical attention were already being treated by Dr. Crusher and her medical teams. To this point, Vale’s quickly developed evacuation plan had worked just as she had hoped.
From what she could see now, though, things were no longer proceeding as smoothly as they had been only moments earlier. Ensign Melorr and his team looked to be working harder to keep the miners orderly and positioned for their transfer.
“What’s the problem here?” she asked in her most authoritative security chief voice, mindful once again of the lower gravity as well as the need to keep herself beyond the reach of any of the miners as she stepped closer.
“This is taking too long,” replied one Dokaalan. “The reactor will overload soon. Why are you keeping us here?”
Vale noted that the miner sounded more fearful than angry, and she briefly considered trying to explain the effects of the radiation emitted by the very minerals these people extracted from the asteroids. She figured they might comprehend the basic concept of forcefields, tractor beams, and perhaps even transporters, but she had no desire to stand on a ticking bomb discussing the details of current Federation technology or the problems it was experiencing here. There would be time enough for that later.
She hoped.
“There are safety concerns with evacuating so many of you,” she said, hoping the simple explanation would be enough. “We can’t do this without your cooperation, so I’m going to ask that you maintain your places and wait for instructions from my people. Rest assured that all of you will be evacuated to our ship and have your injuries tended to.”
It was too much to hope that her words would completely ease the miners’ worries, but Vale was pleasantly surprised when the anxious Dokaalan appeared to relax somewhat.
“The probes,” someone else said from behind her, and Vale turned to see a female Dokaalan regarding her with what the security chief believed to be a quizzical expression. “You found one of our probes, did you not?”
Smiling, Vale nodded. “Two of them, actually, though many, many years passed between finding the first and the second.” She caught herself before saying too much. After all, she didn’t want to incite any more negative feelings by revealing that centuries had passed before Starfleet or the Federation had decided to send a ship to investigate the Dokaalan’s plea for help.
That’d sure make them feel better, wouldn’t it?
“Melorr,” she called out, “get ready to send the next group.” Tapping her combadge, she said, “Vale to Peart. We’re sending the next…”
The rest of the sentence died in her throat as she felt the metal deck plating shudder beneath her feet.
“What the hell was that?” Melorr asked. There was no mistaking the nervousness in the Bolian’s voice, and his emotion was mirrored in the faces of the Dokaalan miners. Some of them were moving from the orderly lines established by the security team and were pressing toward the airlock and the tunnel leading to the Enterprise.
The answer came from her combadge in the voice of the ship’s chief engineer. “La Forge to Vale. The reactor cooling system is shot. Get those people out of here now!”
“What happened?” Vale asked, at the same time giving Melorr the signal to start moving the remaining miners out.
“It was cycling nothing but air after the coolant tank ruptured,” La Forge replied, “and I couldn’t bleed off enough pressure. According to our calculations, the reactor will go in about ten minutes. The chamber it’s in might be enough to contain the explosion, but I don’t know what it might do to the surrounding rock. I’d rather not stick around to find out.”
Vale heard the engineer breathing hard as he talked, as though he was running. More than likely he and his team were scrambling to get back here. Turning around, she saw that her security people were frantically ushering the miners through the airlock and into the tunnel. By her count there were still more than two hundred people left to evacuate.
“Let’s keep it moving,” she called out, trying to keep her voice steady and confident. “We don’t have much time.”
Then time ran out as somewhere below her, too far away to see yet close enough for her to feel the effect, something exploded.
Vale threw out her arms, desperately grabbing for any kind of handhold as the deck pitched and disappeared from beneath her feet. Her hands closed around empty air and she slammed into the nearby bulkhead. Even with the reduced gravity, the impact was enough to make stars erupt in her vision and force the air from her lungs.
Groaning in pain as she slid to the floor, Vale realized the deck was still shaking underneath her. She was bounced along the unforgiving metal plating as she scrambled for something to grasp, finally clutching a safety railing mounted to the bulkhead. All around her, Dokaalan miners and the members of her security team were in similar straits, having been tossed about by the force of the explosion erupting from the depths of the outpost. Then the lights went out, only to be replaced seconds later by dimmer emergency lighting spaced at regular intervals down the length of the passageway.
The reactor, she thought, but had it overloaded faster than Commander La Forge had predicted? Had he and his team been able to make it out in time?
Before she could reach for her combadge in an attempt to contact the engineer, the corridor trembled around her once more. This time the motion was accompanied by an alarm klaxon wailing in the confined passageway.
“Breach!” someone yelled before Vale recognized the sound of air escaping through what could only be a tear in the metal plating forming the corridor around them. Where was it coming from?
Then the hiss became a howl as, less than ten meters away, the tunnel leading to the Enterprise disappeared along with the twenty or more Dokaalan who had been standing in it.
Chapter Fifteen
“DETACH from the airlock! Now!”
The order came too late as, despite the Enterprise’s inertial dampening field, Picard felt the starship roll with the asteroid. The massive hunk of rock shifted on its axis in response to the outpost reactor’s detonation, taking the mining outpost and anything attached with it. While he was sure his ship could handle the stress of the sudden movement, the same could not be said for the more primitive structure of the outpost, let alone the fragile conduit connecting them.
His worst fear was realized an instant later as, displayed on the main viewer for all to see, the transfer tunnel sheared away, ripped from its moorings as easily as a banana might be peeled of its skin.
“The outpost has sustained a massive breach,” Data reported from the ops position. “They are suffering atmospheric decompression.” The damned reactor had overloaded faster than anticipated, Picard realized. What had happened to cause the accelerated results? Where were La Forge and the rest of the away team?
Then there was no more time for such thoughts as something on the main viewer caught the captain’s attention. Horrified, he watched as the metal cylinder that had been the tunnel spiraled away from the mining outpost. Falling apart as it did so, its disintegration revealed dozens of bodies flailing in the vacuum, people who had been in the tunnel when disaster struck. At least one appeared to be wearing a Starfleet uniform.
“Picard to transporter room one,” Picard said as he tapped his combadge, “lock transporters on the people outside the ship and beam them to cargo bay four.” He knew that Commander Riker was coordinating the influx of new arrivals from there, and that Dr. Crusher and her medical team
were already on site, treating the wounded Dokaalan miners who had safely made the evacuation from the outpost.
“Captain,” said the voice of T’Bonz, the transporter chief currently on duty, “that will require our shields to be lowered, and transporters are still being recalibrated by the engineering staff. They have not been certified for humanoid transport.”
“I’m aware of the risks, Chief,” Picard snapped. What choice did he have? Those people were dead if he stood by and did nothing. “Lock on and transport, now.”
“Aye, sir,” came the Vulcan’s cool reply. “Energizing.”
Knowing the interval of time required for a successful transporter cycle to complete, Picard silently counted off the seconds before prompting, “Bridge to cargo bay four. What is the status of the new arrivals?”
The lack of an immediate response filled his heart with dread, a feeling cemented a moment later when the voice of Commander Riker came through the intercom.
“Twenty-seven people have just materialized here, sir.” There was another distressing pause before the first officer continued, and when he did Picard could hear the barely controlled trembling in his voice. “I’m afraid none of them survived.”
Silence engulfed the bridge, broken only by the sounds of control consoles and computer interfaces dutifully processing their various instructions. Picard could only close his eyes and shake his head in momentary despair.
He had gambled, and lost.
It was not the first time he had given orders that resulted in the deaths of others, be they enemy combatants, members of his own crew or, on rare and horrifying occasions, even innocent bystanders. In all of those instances he was able, sooner or later, to divorce personal feelings from his command responsibilities. He knew that, after a time, even the pain he was feeling now would also pass.
Soon, he knew, but not now, and deservedly so.
“Thank you, Number One,” he said after a moment, struggling to keep his own voice level. “Please keep me apprised of any new developments.” As the connection severed, he stared at the viewscreen and the rapidly expanding cloud of debris cast off from the ruptured outpost airlock.
“Captain,” he heard Troi say from behind him. Her voice trailed off, but he could tell from the inflection behind the single word that she wanted to say something to him about the tragedy that had just occurred.
That he had caused.
“Not now, Counselor.” There would be time enough to examine and criticize his incorrect decision later. Now, somewhere beyond that turmoil depicted with cold indifference on the bridge’s main viewscreen, people were still in danger. His people.
“Open a channel to the away team,” he said. He had to know what was happening over there.
Still holding the guardrail, Vale managed to wrap her left arm around it and clasp her hands together before she felt herself pulled off her feet as the rapidly escaping atmosphere dragged at her body. Screams of terror echoed in the corridor as people were dragged through the air toward the jagged metal maw which was all that remained of the transfer tunnel on the other side of the airlock.
Hanging on for dear life, she had been powerless to do anything except watch as Ensign Melorr succeeded in securing his own hold on the airlock hatch’s control lever, only to be struck by the flailing body of a Dokaalan miner. Both of them vanished through the open hatch, swallowed by the dark airless void.
They had been so close! Fewer than half of the miners remained to be evacuated when the tunnel had ruptured. Some of them had been lost to the hull breach but many were still here, holding on to anything that would support them.
The air was still rushing to flee the confines of the corridor, telling Vale that no emergency hatches or bulkheads had closed deeper inside the complex. How much time did they have before this entire section of the outpost was completely without oxygen? No more than a minute, she guessed. Probably less.
“Enterprise to away team!” the voice of Captain Picard called from her combadge, but even his commanding tone was nearly lost amid the screaming wind. “Lieutenant Vale, are you all right?”
Vale ignored the call as she decided on a course of action. Her eyes already ached, the moisture in them beginning to freeze from the rapidly dropping temperature inside the corridor. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her lungs cried out for more oxygen. She had at most a handful of seconds left, and for certain only a single chance.
The hatch.
Twisting herself around so that she was now facing headfirst toward the open airlock, Vale released her hold on the guardrail. She immediately felt herself pushed toward the hatch by the force of the rushing atmosphere. Darkness beckoned beyond the open doorway, but she focused instead on the section of bulkhead just to the left of the hatchway. That, and the lever which would seal the hatch shut, the same lever that Melorr had grasped in a frantic yet futile bid for survival.
She felt the fingers of her left hand swipe across the cold metal of the bulkhead plating, sliding along its surface until they contacted the rough metal of the lever. Closing her grip around the protrusion, Vale swung her body back toward the wall, this time absorbing the impact with the soles of her boots. Now she was anchored to the bulkhead by a two-handed death grip on the control lever.
Already growing fatigued from the lack of oxygen, Vale ignored her increasingly blurry vision. She drew one final deep breath from the dwindling atmosphere around her before heaving down on the lever with all her remaining strength.
The lever slid down, and her effort was rewarded with the whine of the motors controlling the hatch as the reinforced metal door cycled shut. Only once it had closed completely, stopping the frantic flight of air from the corridor, did Vale release her grip on the lever and allow the outpost’s reduced gravity to pull her to the deck.
Okay, let’s hope we don’t have to do that again anytime soon.
“Is everyone okay?” she called out, hearing her own raspy voice and realizing for the first time that her throat was parched, another effect of the sudden decompression. Voices shouted from farther down the corridor, and only then did Vale realize that someone had opened the other hatch, the one leading back into the main part of the outpost. Looking in that direction, Vale was happy to see so many faces, mentally patting herself on the head for her decision to keep that door closed during the evacuation process. With the exception of those nearest to the airlock when the tunnel had breached, it looked as though most of the remaining Dokaalan miners had survived.
The lucky ones, she mused.
“Enterprise to away team,” Captain Picard’s voice called out again from her combadge. “Report your status if you are able. Do you require medical assistance?”
The security chief tapped her communicator. “Vale here, Captain. I need a minute, sir. We’re still picking ourselves up off the deck over here.” Turning to look back up the corridor, she called out, “Alpha team, report.”
A male human and a female Andorian wearing Starfleet uniforms, two of her four-person team, emerged from around the corner at the corridor intersection. Both of them looked haggard, no doubt as beat up and relieved to still be alive as she.
“We’re missing six of the miners, Lieutenant,” Ensign Zelev th’Chun reported, pausing a moment to wipe blood from a cut along her forehead. “The others have a variety of bruises and lacerations, along with a few broken bones. Nothing serious, though.”
Standing next to Zelev, Ensign McPherson regarded Vale with an expression of dread. “What about Melorr…and Graham?”
“I saw Melorr fall through the airlock,” Vale replied. “Graham was escorting the last group of evacuees to the ship when everything went to hell.” She shook her head. “I don’t see how he could have…I’m sorry.”
McPherson and Graham had been teammates since the former’s arrival aboard the Enterprise nearly five months earlier. Vale had paired them after it had become apparent during training exercises that the two worked exceedingly well together. Such cohesiveness
and trust were vital components in developing an effective security team, but they also meant that the pain ran even deeper than normal when a member of that team was lost.
Placing a hand on the young ensign’s shoulder, she said, “It’s hard, I know. We’ll pay our respects to Melorr and Graham when the time’s appropriate, but right now we’ve still got the rest of these evacuees to get to safety.”
She indicated the remaining Dokaalan miners who stood quietly a discreet distance down the corridor, regarding the Starfleet officers with expressions of pain and empathy. These people also had just lost friends and perhaps family members, but Vale was sure this was not the first time they had faced tragedy.
Maybe our being here will bring them some unexpected joy, Vale thought grimly as her people turned their attentions back to the task at hand, but so far we haven’t given them much to be thankful for.
Chapter Sixteen
WITH THE RESCUE and recovery operation now in the cleanup stages, Picard allowed himself a moment of respite. Dr. Crusher already was providing preliminary reports that with the exception of a handful of cases, most of the wounded Dokaalan miners would recover from their injuries.
Leaving Data in charge on the bridge until Commander Riker’s return, the captain retreated to the sanctuary of his ready room. He waited until the doors closed before dropping onto the small sofa positioned across from his desk. Here, tucked away from the uncounted details that required his attention, he closed his eyes and finally tried to release the frustration he had been keeping at bay. Only now could he purge the emotions he had contained while standing before those he commanded.
His solitude was short-lived, however, interrupted by the subdued melody of the door chime.
“Come,” he said, suspecting who would be there. His suspicion was confirmed as the doors parted to reveal Deanna Troi.
“Captain, we need to talk.”